


you can't feel guilty if you don't think you did anything wrong

by Raven17



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angry Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6411298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven17/pseuds/Raven17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duncan is a little like a psychopath sometimes, like the serial killers he loves reading about.  He's far too calm, entirely unapologetic after slashing Coyle in the face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can't feel guilty if you don't think you did anything wrong

**Author's Note:**

> This is short, unbetaed, and without a definitive end despite being complete. It's done solely because I find it incredibly hard to write Duncs because of how I feel about him. This was almost just a scene that came to me, and I put it down on paper.
> 
> I could see this going the D/S route, and if someone wanted to write that, I wouldn't argue, and I'd love to read Duncs on his knees. I just can't write it.
> 
> As for the title... this really doesn't have a title, but I had to put something... and whether Duncs knows or acknowledges he did something wrong or not, I can't see him caring, particularly.
> 
> Yeah, I can see him being a bit of a scumbag/jackass. Yeah, I still love him. Kind of unconditionally. He's my heartbreak.

When he gets back to the locker room, he’s not surprised to see Seabs waiting for him. “Let me guess, he had it coming?”

Duncan eyes Brent with the same clinical expression he wears on the ice. His expression never changes. Outwardly, he’s cool, unflappable as always, though his recent actions suggest otherwise. “Something like that.”

“You can’t do shit like that, man, that’s gonna cost the team.”

Duncs shrugs. “We’re already in the playoffs.”

“So what, you just wanted time off to rest?” Seabs leans back against the wall. He’s in streetclothes already, having not suited up for the game at all, fighting off a bug that’s been going around.

“Something like that.” Duncan’s irritatingly calm, entirely unapologetic as he peels off his gear and strips down to shower.

“You know I don’t buy that for a second.”

“Believe what you want.” Duncs says idly, grabbing a towel and heading for the showers. 

Seabs pushes off the bench and follows him, leans against the doorjamb and watches as he steps under the steaming spray, scrubbing a hand through sweat-knotted red-brown curls. “…speared Johnny Hockey against Calgary, too. Got away with that one.”

Duncs grunts out something like a ‘huh’ that’s decidedly not a question, and rinses sweat and soap and game and gear grime from his body. 

Brent folds his arms across his chest and waits, leaning casually against the doorframe. He doesn’t move.

Duncan finishes showering, runs a towel over his hair and body before knotting it around his waist, then walks towards where Brent is waiting in the door, blocking his exit to the hall that leads back to the locker room. He sighs heavily, eyes Seabs expectantly.

Brent straightens and takes a half step forward until he’s within inches of Duncs. He reaches out a hand and fists it, not gently, in the damp curls at the nape of Duncan’s neck, pulling back slightly, just enough to stretch the corded tendons of Duncs’ throat. He looks for a minute like he might say something, but instead leans in, presses his lips to Duncan’s in a punishingly hard closed-mouthed kiss. It’s bruising and violent, almost cruel pressure, and Duncs yields to it with a quiet groan.


End file.
